Bis Reunites (And Mom, It’s Pronounced “Biss,” Not “Buys.” I Don’t Go In for That Sort of Thing)

Message boards are buzzing with the news that Bis has reunited! Okay, just one message board, actually, and it's the one for the Bis folks' newer but now defunct band, Data Panik. Since I'm a pretty well-informed lady and I had never heard of this "Data Panik" business, it seems like a good idea for them to quit pretending they're a new band and go back to being Bis. The band will play two shows in early April, including one in London to coincide with the 10th anniversary of the band's 1997 album New TransistorHeroes.

By the way, you might want to check out these forums if you're into Scottish indie rock gossip. My perusal led to the recovery of this gem from frontwoman Manda Rin:

"there's just so much crappiness from people in Glasgow that it's put me off playing here. I know I should think of the fans and not these scenester idiots thought, so maybe a tiny nice 'n' sleazys type gig, or King Tuts if we're being ambitious. Oh I dunno! Thanks for all these comments which have made me very happy!"

Uh, is someone stalking Ms. Rin through the mean streets of Glasgow? Is that someone wearing a Mogwai t-shirt and a maniacal snarl? Is he morally opposed to indie pop or women or just album covers that depict the band members as cartoon characters? Is he some homophobic asshat who thinks that Bis is a band of rabid omnisexuals who must be stopped? The world demands to know.

In a related story, my boyfriend can recommence fearing for his life as I wander around our apartment humming along to "Kill Your Boyfriend."

Boy, I could use some Dunkaroos right about now. I used to eat those things at lunch every freakin' day. The best part is when I'd finish the cookies and there's that big dollop of chocolate left over. Am I right? Dang... I'd miss my next class to savor a dollop like that. All this is by way of saying that I'm going to the store right now and seeing if they still make Dunkaroos. I ask you, who's with me? Who??

Oh, you want some stale info on the new Air album first? Well, first of all, it's got 12 tracks. That's two more songs than their last one, which is kind of exciting, right? Can we go now? Also, J. B. Dunckel used some Asian classical instruments on a bunch of the tracks, like the dude COME ON, I can tell you about this in the car, I just want the 'Roos! I can't even think! The chocolate is so gritty, and thick! Okay, okay, almost done. He uses the, umm, the Koto. And the shamisen. Nigel Godrich, Radiohead dude, he produced it; Jarvis Cocker and the guy from The Divine Comedy, they sing on it; they'll be going on tour and stuff...

So let's go go go! Hmm? Oh, right, album title. God, see what these Dunkaroos are doing to me? What kind of news story is this? It's called Pocket Symphony, and it comes out on March 6, and I'm honestly leaving without you if you don't get in the car in five seconds.

Okay, so David Berman's been described as a "reluctant performer," but sweet Jesus Christ (Yeah, I said it. In an article about Silver Jews, no less)!!! Bursting back on the scene with the twisted, fabulous, and jangly chaos of 2005's Tanglewood Numbers and then APPEARING IN PUBLIC, The Silver Jews filled a gaping hole in the hearts of all who wondered when the heck Berman would get over his stage fright.

But woe to those who missed them at the Some Other Magazine Festival this summer and during their subsequent tour. (Hi, nice to meet you.) All we suckers got this Hanukkah from the Silver Jews was a nice little e-mail:

The tickets you purchased for Silver Jews at Webster Hall on Saturday, December 30 will be automatically refunded since the event has been cancelled.

The cancelled event was:Silver Jews

Bishops at Large

Thank you for choosing TicketWeb.

Uh, you're welcome.

Berman's admittedly more poetic version of that letter can be found here.

I was once romantically involved with the Akron/Family's self-titled release more than a year ago. I spent a tryst or three with the brilliance I was yearning for in a modern psych-folk quartet. My friend was able to lure the folkies out to play a show in nowhere, Indiana by giving into their demands of extraneous amounts of money and sex.

I was overly excited to see these guys play live, but everything that could go wrong went wrong. First of all, I discovered to my disappointment that they were in fact not a family, but just a group of normal guys who like nachos and beer. Secondly, during their performance, I dropped acid for the first time.

Since there was acid all over the floor, everyone had to vacate to the nearest exit and wait until the spill had been properly cleaned. I'm usually clumsy, but this time I ruined the whole out-of-body experience that only Akron/Family could have provided me with.

In light of their new record Meek Warrior [TMT Review], the kindred spirits of Akron/Family will go on a small tour and float cosmically from city to city. Hopefully, there is a 12-year-old girl like me out there who will be able to catch one of these live shows and become enlightened. I have faith in you Akron/Family to heal this nation. Please don't let me down this time like I let you down last time.

For most people, Mastodon's sound conjures up images of flaming antlers and blood-soaked, prognosticating trees. When I hear Mastodon, I think of Scottie Pippen and Toni Kukoc lining up for three-pointers. There's admittedly little basketball imagery in Mastodon's lyrics, but every time I've listened to Blood Mountain, I've just so happened to be playing NBA Jam: Tournament Edition on Super Nintendo at the same time. Each pounding guitar line forms a vivid image of swirling, flaming dunks from half-court care of Mookie Blaylock. Each piecing metal freakout brings me back to the time Dennis Rodman stole the ball at the last second and brought the game into overtime with an amazing underhand toss.

All I'm saying is, Mastodon is versatile music. Sure, I had some tracks off Leviathan on my "goat sacrifice, etc." playlist, but there was a time I was afraid to transfer them over to "jock jams." Gather your friends, your enemies, and your dwindling hoop skills, because Mastodon is coming to town next year.

On my 19th birthday, I was introduced to both Of Montreal and the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, neither of which evoked much hipster irony at the time. I gazed upward at the 6th Street American Apparel, dazzled by its primary colors. I longed for a Red Stripe. I was oblivious.

Three hours later, I was completely head over heels for David Barnes in all his androgynous, sparkly hippie glory, and Satanic Panic in the Attic didn't leave my car stereo for months. Drugs? Fuck that. Give me "My British Tour Diary" and a clear spot on the dance floor.

Of course, I fell off the couch in horror when I heard the strains of "Wraith Pinned to the Mist (And Other Games)" in an OUTBACK FREAKING STEAKHOUSE COMMERCIAL (clearly, I'm still not over that one), and I consider Sunlandic Twins to be stripped-down and inferior when lined up with the rest of their catalog, but! As long as you can avoid idiot cokeheads in the crowd who utter such genius statements as "The music! It's in your hair!" (I only wish I was kidding) and deal with clubs bigger than Brooklyn's North Six, there's no reason you shouldn't find yourself at one of these shows in a non-steakhouse near you.